


L-O-V-E's Just Another Word I Never Learned To Pronounce

by unoriginalrhombus



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-05 16:58:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unoriginalrhombus/pseuds/unoriginalrhombus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So it's the comment that sets her off and leads her to Mr. Schue's wedding, a plan in set and an idea in mind. (She's supposed to be straight. Santana is supposed to hate her. They are supposed to be fighting. But a lot of supposes and what-ifs and sure's have made up their relationship in the past and Quinn isn't really trying to relive it.) It turns out, like it always does with Santana, the reality far exceeds the idea."<br/>Set a little before and after 'I Do'. My idea of what leads to and what follows 4x14.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hey guys! I worked hard on this because it wouldn't leave me alone, so please read and just let me know if you like it. Let me know what you all think! (Also, please excuse all mistakes, my computer is acting funky and I'm trying to fix them but it won't allow me.)
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, or Santana, or Quinn. And I do not profit off of any of it.

The events that unfolded between Santana and Quinn at Mr. Schue's wedding started as all things did, with an offhand comment.

She could say it started off with a drink because to the rest of the world, that was the beginning of the end for them.

But, no, Quinn knows that it really started with a comment.

* * *

She's sitting in Yale three weeks into her Freshman year when she gets stuck in another group project where she has to " _share something about herself_ ". She hates sharing everything and anything, so Quinn waits for someone to ask her a question before she can decide if she really wants to answer and if she wants to answer truthfully.

"Where are you from?" The boy to her right - Kevin...or was it Kyle? Whatever, it's not like Quinn really cares - asks, and Quinn honestly feels like answering because nobody has asked her that yet. Surprisingly. Question one is and always has been, 'so, you were probably a cheerleader, huh?'

Nevermind the fact that it's true. She was, in fact, a cheerleader. Quinn has learned that it isn't the question that truly bugs her, it's the way that everyone has said it. To them, cheerleaders were tokens not  _athletes_  and Quinn is tired of having to explain the true terror that is Sue Sylvester.

"Lima." Quinn answers honestly, because to her there is strength in that one word and she wants others to hear it.

"Huh, never heard of it." The boy answers dismissively before turning his attention towards the girl on her left.

Quinn tenses at the feeling of being so easily dismissed and so easily forgotten. The ache in her heart for her second command has never been more present. She wants to send him away with some well thought out insult or quip, she wants to make him regret ever thinking that Lima was a place not worth knowing about.

That the people from there are not worth knowing about.

But, Quinn has no real power here. She has no second in command or people to fall back on. Worse, she has no people to step on to carry her to the top.

No, here she's a kid unlike every other. She's without a trust fund, good parents, and  _friends_. So Quinn doesn't say anything because she truly can't, not if she wants to stay afloat, and it makes her miss Santana. Santana wouldn't have hesitated. Santana would have come in guns all ablazing.

Santana wouldn't have settled with being dismissed so easily.

That realization alone releases some sort of dam of memories that Quinn has tried to suppress for so long. Memories of crazy acts, songs, adventures involving the rest of her unholy trinity. Memories she wanted to pretend didn't exist so she could leave Lima and everything in it far behind her.

But Lima, like Quinn, refuses to be forgotten so easily.

After that, Quinn finds herself missing Santana more frequently and at random moments.

She misses her in October when she's stuck at a Sorority meeting and everyone only wants to talk about boys instead of reasons why Quinn should pledge.

She misses her in November, right before Thanksgiving, when her married Professor hits on her because he actually assumes she's the type of girl who will give it up for a good grade.

She misses Santana three times in December: once when her roommate brings her back breadsticks from the local diner. Once when she hears Adele blasting from down the hall. And once on Christmas, because Christmas was the day (without fail) that Santana would show up at Quinn's house with a flask and her copy of Mean Girls. It's a day where they get to pretend like they were friends, at least for a few moments.

She misses her twice in January. For odd reasons, once when she's feeling particularly lonely and once when she's feeling mean. It's enough to make her feel like she's going crazy and to realize just how much she relied on her second in command, even when she didn't think she did.

So it's the comment that sets her off and leads her to Mr. Schue's wedding, a plan in set and an idea in mind.

(She's supposed to be straight.

Santana is supposed to hate her.

They are supposed to be fighting.

But a lot of supposes and what-ifs and sure's have made up their relationship in the past and Quinn isn't really trying to relive it.)

It turns out, like it always does with Santana, the reality far exceeds the idea.

* * *

She feels sated the morning after when she's wrapping the sheets tighter around her body, Santana pressed firmly into her back. But even worse, she feels  _panic_  envelope around her heart at the realization that she feels this sated because of  _Santana Lopez_.

Quinn panics and runs just so that she can hide, away from whatever this is and whatever it meant. Just like all good Fabray's do.

* * *

She boards the next available flight back to New Haven, her hair a complete mess and her appearance looking every part of the one night stand. Quinn doesn't care though, she doesn't have time to pay attention to the stares or how her makeup is probably smeared from the night before.

She doesn't have time to think about anything other than the image of Santana arching underneath her, Santana's mouth covering hers, the taste of Santana's thighs and how they felt wrapped around Quinn's head...

Quinn shook her head, suddenly uncomfortable and scared that somebody on the plane might have the ability to read minds and they might see that Quinn was having the kind of thoughts that a good Christian girl wouldn't have.

She can't be  _gay_ , Quinn rationalizes. She was just confused and lonely and it was a wedding, so obviously people were bound to hook up. Most of all, she can't be gay because she's Christian and Christians are not gay, that's not how things go when you love Jesus.

That's not how things should go. Not at all.

* * *

It goes to show that Santana knows Quinn better than anyone else because she doesn't call Quinn, not for  _weeks_. And when she finally dials Quinn's number, she doesn't make any mention of Quinn, that night, or how it had ended up being more than a four-time-thing.

For Quinn's part, she hasn't made any effort to contact Santana. The only thing she has done this past month is work harder at fitting in, join the Christian club, and pushing thoughts from that night very, very,  _very_ , far away.

Quinn was currently preoccupied with her roommates  _Skins_  marathon, (which, wow, she had never seen something so scandalous before and she was absolutely riveted) when her phone starts to vibrate. She answers it on reflex, thinking that it might be some of the girls from her Sorority.

"Go for Fabray." Quinn quipped, shooting a smile at her roommate who was in on the joke.

"Wow, Fabray, you sound exactly what I picture squares would sound like." Santana's voice filters through and Quinn feels her heart flutter.

Quinn hates it because she isn't that girl and she shouldn't be acting like her. "What do you want, Lopez?"

"Wooow," Santana drawls out, amusement seeping through her tone. "Is that any way to treat a friend."

"We aren't friends." Quinn answers, adamant and firm because she wants it to be true.

Luckily (or maybe unluckily, Quinn can't really decide) Santana doesn't take her seriously. "Your words hurt me real deep, Fabray. Real fucking deep."

Quinn rolls her eyes and rolls off her bed, ignoring the curious look that her roommate is sending her. Whatever this conversation is or isn't, Quinn doesn't need some random person hovering over her and listening to her every word. She slides on her slippers and walks into the hallway. She heads across the hall to the common lounge and lowers her voice. "What's this about, Santana?"

"I need your advice." Santana states, more than she asks, and it's different in a way that Quinn doesn't like.

Quinn stills. It was new, Santana never asked her for anything. "What is it?"

"Berry is absolutely infatuated with Donkey face over here. Seriously, it's like Finn 2.0. She's got these blinders on and she can't see anything past his abs and frankly, his incredibly small penis."

Quinn grimaced. "Ew."

"Yeah, I know, right? First Finnept and now Shrek Jr. It's like she wants to go nowhere with her life." Santana replied flippantly.

"Santana." Quinn warned, not willing to sit through all of Santana's insults. Not when she had spent a month pretending like nothing else existed out of her relationship with this girl.

"Right, anyway, Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum haven't been so receptive of my wonderful criticism."

Quinn laughed, unable to withhold her affection. "You went scavenger hunting through their apartment, didn't you?"

"Please," Santana said, as if it were obvious. "you  _know_  that's a thing I do."

"I do," Quinn said, a little breathless in the way that Santana always makes her feel. She lowered her voice until it was almost a whisper and turned away from the entrance, her body facing the television. "I do."

Santana stayed quiet on the other line and Quinn was almost convinced that this was the end of the conversation, until Santana sighed loudly and overdramatically. "They don't get me here."

"A lot of people don't, Lopez."

Santana 'hmm's' in content. "You do."

"I do." Quinn agrees.

"So we agree then?"

"Agree on what?" Quinn asked, genuinely confused.

Quinn heard footsteps behind her and ignored them, hoping it wasn't her roommate checking up on her.

"Turn around."

Quinn whirled around on the spot, her mouth dropping at the sight of Santana and a suitcase. Santana's wearing some getup that Quinn thinks shouldn't be allowed, not something that short anyway, and she's looking absolutely smug.

"What-why-how did you get inside?"

Santana shrugs, her skirt rising a few inches effectively drawing Quinn's attention. "Let's be real, it's  _me_. I could get inside of the most ridiculously locked vault in no time flat."

Quinn narrowed her eyes, her skin already tickling in irritation at Santana's confidence. "I highly doubt that."

Santana smirks and Quinn knows before she even opens her mouth that she's going to say something that will push Quinn's buttons. "Why not? I got into you, didn't I? And you're pretty much locked down."

Quinn's mouth drops open in shock and her cheeks flush in embarrassment. Santana just looks amused. She points to Quinn's hand, her eyebrow raised in a challenge. "Your phone is still open."

Quinn snaps it shut and turns away, her mind not ready to acknowledge that night or any of the events that unfolded. Santana stayed where she was, knowing that anything else would be pushing too far and too fast for Quinn. Quinn was like an endangered animal, if you move too quickly, you scare her off.

Santana rolls her shoulders as if she's preparing for battle (because that's how she always feels when she's around Quinn) and clears her throat. "They kicked me out."

Quinn whirled around for the second time in fifteen minutes and grimaced when her neck popped in an unpleasant way. "What?"

Santana shrugged. "They kicked me out. I mean, they let me move back in a few days later, but they still kicked me out."

"Wait," Quinn interrupted, her mind trying to wrap her head around everything. "So you're not homeless?"

"Not anymore."

Quinn sighed in relief, the anger that had appeared so quickly disappeared just as fast. "So...why are you here?"

"I told you, I needed advice."

"On what?"

Santana smirked, her eyes mischievous and her body loose. She took a slow step towards Quinn and Quinn felt the eery feeling consume her that she was the prey in this scenario. "I was curious as to how it's possible for people as good as them to be so cruel towards me."

"I wouldn't call that cruel..."

Santana wagged her finger at Quinn as she took another step forward. "They were the nice ones in high school and the more time I spend with them, the more I start to realize that they've turned into a bunch of bitches. Which, of course, I absolutely adore."

"Of course." Quinn agreed, a small smile on her lips as Santana took another step towards her, her body inches away from Quinn's.

"Of course." Santana repeats, her smile never wavering. "Anyway, you know me, I gots to understand things. So, while this realization occurred to me, I started thinking about how it was possible for two of the biggest losers in school to become like my family and how it was possible for the biggest bitch in school to become my closest friend."

Quinn licked her lips, still curious as to where this conversation was going. "So, what? You hopped on a train just to come visit me because you finally accepted the fact that I'm your friend?"

"You know it's more than that." Santana winked, causing Quinn's cheeks to flush again. "So I boarded a train to New Haven even though it's long and even though it smells, because it hit me that you are the closest thing to a best friend-and yes, that's pretty fucking depressing-that I have right now and we haven't talked in a  _month_. We haven't talked in a month and it's killing me because I have nothing better to do. I spend my days being groped by ugly ass men and aging women, and my nights listening to Berry and Hummel practicing scales-which, btw, nobody needs to sing that loud  _ever_. All I want to do is talk to someone every now and then who's equal parts bitch and equal parts hottie, while also including some parts that are pretty fucked up."

Quinn smiled at that, Santana's words warming her in more ways than one. Quinn smirked. "So this is Santana Lopez professing her love and unwavering devotion? What a sight it truly is to see."

Santana rolled her eyes and smacked Quinn's arm. "What can I say? The Diva's have me watching those romance movies on fucking repeat."

In the end, Santana never did tell Quinn what she needed advice on, but Quinn got the feeling that it wasn't really the part of this trip that mattered. Santana stayed for two days, overall. Two days that were full of banter, endless hours of Jersey Shore, annoying the shit out of her roommate, drinking, blowing off class, pizza, a shared bed, prank calling Berry, Santana threatening David, a drunken rendition of 'Baby, One More Time', and finally two kisses.

The first happens right after Quinn's roommate leaves for her afternoon class. Quinn is lucky in the sense that it's Wednesday and she never has classes on Wednesday. She's sitting on her bed, laughing at something cruel that Santana has said when Santana leans down (she's standing next to Quinn, slipping off her shoes) and pecks her on the lips. Quinn freezes while Santana continues taking off her boots.

Both pretend like nothing ever happened.

The second happens days later, when Quinn is standing with Santana at the train station, waiting for Santana's train to arrive. Quinn's face is split into a grin, her body feeling lighter than it has in months. Santana is wearing another ridiculous outfit, something a stripper would probably wear, and Quinn is passed the point of secretly staring. There's no doubt that Santana has been anything other than beautiful.

Santana is making some crack about this old gentleman who is blatantly staring at this girl passengers ass, when she turns toward Quinn, her face bright and her eyes happy. "What?" Santana asks, curious as to why Quinn is looking at her with such appreciation.

Quinn shrugs, she's always been that uncommitted, even now. "I'm just going to miss you."

Santana's features soften and then she grabs the corners of Quinn's blazer, pulling her in before Quinn can protest. Santana's lips smooth over Quinn's and if Quinn wasn't so concerned with the fact that they were in public, she would have whimpered in response because Santana has always gone into everything with her guns blazing. It ends as quickly as it starts and Quinn almost protests in response. Instead she says the only thing she thinks she can.

"I'm not gay."

Santana rolls her eyes, her hands releasing Quinn's blazer. "I know."

"So what was that?" Quinn asks, because even if she isn't gay, she can't let things like that go. Not when they make her skin prickle and her body feel more alive than it ever has in her six months at Yale.

Santana smiles, her hand socking Quinn's right shoulder playfully.

"It's an, I'll miss you, too."

Santana boards her train shortly after that and Quinn's heart starts that weird aching thing again. The aching thing that Quinn has grown to resent because it makes her feel so normal, so human, so much like the girl who was stuck inside of Lima. It makes her feel more like Lucy then it makes her feel like Quinn. Overall, she doesn't like it. Not one bit.

* * *

It's weeks later when she hears through the grapevine (which is really just code for Mercedes) that Rachel and Brody broke up. She's been talking to Santana more frequently now, but still not as often as she wants to. It's weird, this feeling of wanting to always speak to her sometimes friend, and Quinn doesn't want to let it consume her. So she pretends to be busy for as long as she can until she absolutely has to text Santana.

This time though, she caves early, and calls her friend. It's been a few days since they skyped and usually Quinn likes to put a few more days in between their communication trysts, but Quinn is feeling quite overzealous at the news.

Santana picks up after two rings. "Hey Boo."

Quinn frowns at the greeting. "Boo?"

Santana laughs. "Sorry, I just like the look that Kurt gets every time I greet the phone like that. I swear, he assumes I'm a prostitute. You get one call boy and suddenly every good looking person is a whore."

"It's not assuming if you have evidence to back up your claim!" Quinn hears Kurt yell from the background and she could almost see Santana roll her eyes in response.

"Please Kurt," Santana calls out, her voice sounding far away from the phone. "You underestimate me. Obviously I'd be an escort. A classy one, at that. Don't underestimate my good looks or the things I can do with a tie."

Quinn blushes, again, and smacks herself on the forehead. She's incredibly irritated at the lump-mess-blushing-thing that Santana's words always reduced her to.

"Sorry, Q," Santana says, her voice closer again. "Kurt is busy being Nancy Drew here. He's convinced that he should have figured out Brody before me."

"Why?" Quinn asks, her curiosity piqued.

Santana scoffs. "I dunno, because he's gay? Anyway, what'd you call for? Usually you wait a few more days."

It's just like Santana to constantly point out the obvious and Quinn tries not to falter. "I just wanted to wish you a congratulations."

"For? You gotta be more specific, Q, or I am just gonna assume that you mean for everything."

Quinn huffs in response, Santana's ego was the largest thing in their friendship. "For being right about Brody."

Santana laughs and Quinn hears the clacking of boots, which means that Santana is heading towards her small designated section of the loft. Which is really just a corner next to a cabinet. "The congratulations is welcomed but highly unnecessary."

Santana gets quiet after that and Quinn stays silent. She honestly has nothing to say other than that. Now that she thinks about it, she really only called to hear Santana's voice, and it  _bugs_  her that she's stooped this low. She's basically Rachel Berry.

She doesn't want to say it but it slips out anyway, and Quinn barely recognizes the person she's been reduced to when she says, "I miss you."

It's embarrassing and weak and  _low_  for a Fabray to even mention something like that. It's even worse to say it to someone who used to be beneath her, who was never really her friend (only her enemy), to someone she hooked up with at a wedding only to pretend it never happened.

Santana's quiet and Quinn knows her well enough to know that she's dissecting Quinn's statement into a million little pieces. "I miss you, too."

Quinn breathes a sigh of relief. She doesn't know why, but she wouldn't have been able to handle it if Santana had left her hanging. "Cool."

Santana laughs again, her laugh almost music to Quinn's ears and Quinn knows in this moment that she's gone too far. She's far surpassed where she should have ever been, this wasn't her plan, she needed to backpedal before she ended up in love and alone. Because that's all love ever did, it left you alone.

Santana is speaking when Quinn zones back in, so she clears her throat to get her attention. "What did you say?"

"I said you should come up this weekend. We could hang out, make fun of Rachel's horrendous makeup. Oh! I could take you to my favorite spot in Central Park."

To anyone else Santana's invitation would sound like a thing between friends but Quinn knew better. They were treading the line right now and Quinn was terrified at when (not if) she was going to cross it.

"I'm not gay." Quinn repeats, even though it has no power right now.

Santana sighs in irritation. "I know, and that's not what I said, Fabray."

Quinn sighs. She knows that resistance is futile, especially when it comes to Santana Lopez. "I'll think about it."

"Good." Santana says, her voice clear and curt. "Now, let's discuss all the ways in which I'm fantastic."

* * *

Quinn makes plans to show up that weekend because she honestly doesn't know what else to do. It's like she's on a roller coaster, she knows what's coming (of course she does) but she can't get off the ride and she can't look away. Not to mention the fact that she already knew all of this could happen and she got on the damn ride anyway.

It says a lot about where Quinn is in her life when it's three days later and she steps on a train to New York.

* * *

The weekend is a lot more fun than Quinn expected it to be.

She feels  _happy_. Genuinely happy during breakfast on Sunday. Rachel is ranting to Kurt about some random thing at NYADA and Santana is making impressions of Rachel behind her back. Their life isn't amazing. In fact, they really only have pancake batter and milk because that's pretty much all they can afford on the regular, but it's a happy life nonetheless.

It's the type of life Quinn could see herself in and she shakes the thought as quickly as it comes. She's Quinn Fabray, she doesn't do happy and she doesn't do happy with Santana Lopez, Kurt Hummel, and Rachel Berry for crying out loud. Her fifteen year old self would weep if she could see where she was now.

But then there was this moment and it begged to differ.

"Quinn, please tell Santana that her antics are childish, and that nobody is laughing." Rachel says, effectively tearing Quinn away from her thoughts.

Quinn turned her attention towards Santana who was mimicking Rachel dramatically. Quinn laughed. "I cannot tell lies." Which, frankly, is a lie.

Kurt raised his eyebrows. "I call shenanigans!"

Santana changed her expression quickly and shot a glare over towards Kurt. "Get back to those pancakes, Rocket Man."

Kurt rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the griddle as Rachel sat down at the table to Quinn's right, Santana on her left.

"I honestly don't know how we put up with you."

"Oh please," Santana practically objected. "Both of your lives would be meaningless without me."

Kurt turned around again. "I wouldn't go that far."

"You love each other." Quinn said, offhandedly, because it made sense in her head. But once the statement was said out loud, everyone grew incredibly silent. Rachel, Kurt, and Santana didn't say anything, but they did share a  _look_ and a  _smile_  and it hits Quinn that she doesn't belong in this moment because these people do  _love_  each other and Quinn isn't capable of such fantasies. She doesn't belong because she never would have back in Lima, this friendship never would have existed at the school, so why does it exist now?

She's unraveling and she knows it. Worse, Santana knows it, too.

Quinn excuses herself to go to the restroom because she can't escape how lonely she feels. She has Yale and the people there but she doesn't have anyone who cares, she never has, and it's overwhelming her...just how much she feels like her mother.

A pretty piece to a puzzle that's already been solved. Rachel and Kurt don't need her in this moment because they have Santana and Santana doesn't need her because she has (and always has had) Brittany, even when she wasn't present.

She's hyperventilating by the time she reaches the bathroom, her breath is coming out in shallow bursts, and she doesn't know what's happening but she thinks that this is what despair truly feels like. She closes her eyes to make it a little bit easier and when she opens them again, Santana is there, looking at her with a concerned look on her face.

"Don't." Quinn says, and she means it.

Santana places her hand on Quinn's lower back. Trying to be soothing but only coming off as awkward. "Quinn...you could have it, too."

Quinn turned around, her hands automatically finding Santana's hips. "This is yours, not mine, and I don't belong here."

Santana bit the inside of her cheek, her eyes hesitant. "You could belong here, Quinn, and you know it." Santana leaned in then, her lips brushing over Quinn's softly. She waited for a minute allowing Quinn to pull away if necessary before pushing forward, her lips connecting with Quinn's quickly.

It was a kiss that calmed all storms and Quinn couldn't handle it, not now. She let the kiss linger before pulling away, her eyes tearing up against her will. "I'm not gay."

Santana's face hardens at Quinn's words, but she doesn't let go of her. The important thing is she doesn't let go.

"I know."

* * *

They have sex after that and it's just as breathtaking as the first time.

Kurt and Rachel seem to know what's going on because they both conveniently leave before said act takes place. However, they don't say anything, and for that Quinn is thankful.

She doesn't think too much about it because if she does this whole facade will crumble.

Santana walks her to the train station afterwards. She's wearing skinny jeans and Quinn's Yale t-shirt and it feels a lot like Quinn's claimed her, even though she wasn't sure when and how that happened.

Santana stops in front of Quinn's stop, her head low and her eyes bashful and it's nothing like the girl Quinn used to admire. She wonders, for the first time, if this thing was destroying who they used to be and changing them into people Quinn barely recognized.

Santana grabs Quinn's hand and starts playing with her fingers, her body completely at ease. "So, I was thinking," Santana started, her eyes light and hopeful and strange. "Maybe I could come down next weekend? I have a few days off from the bar and I was thinking i could come to you, bring some wine, have a little  _fun_."

Quinn doesn't want to ruin the moment, so she slowly disentangles her fingers and gives Santana a small smile. "Maybe."

* * *

When she gets back to Yale she panics in typical Quinn fashion.

She doesn't want to change because this girl got her this far, who's to say she won't take Quinn the rest of the way? She doesn't want Santana to change, either, because Santana's the type of girl who will always need Brittany. The time spent away from Brittany was just time that Santana spent preparing for her return. Quinn wasn't going to get caught up in that, she couldn't.

She was straight.

Santana was her friend.

She was happy, here.

Quinn spent the next three days trying to prove that those three things were true.

She hung out with her Sorority friends even though they grated on her last nerve. She filled her life with her roommate, classes, homework, and meaningless boys.

The boy who started it all, Kevin-or was it Kyle? Seriously, she really didn't care-worked up the nerve to ask her out, stating that he had liked her since the first day he met her. It was cheesy and lame and not at all challenging. She still disliked him and the way he smelled and the way he considered himself to be smarter, better, and greater than her. She disliked everything he represented, and yet, she still said yes when he asked her out for that weekend.

She doesn't really know why she said it or why she feels so relieved, but she does. She calls Santana on a Thursday, because Quinn knows that it's short notice and that Santana will be pissed over that.

"Hey pretty lady." Santana greets when she picks up the phone. "What's up?"

Quinn's heart sinks at the realization that she knows what she's doing, she always has, and she's still doing it anyway. "I have to cancel our plans for this weekend."

"What?" Santana asks, her voice alert and confused. "Why?"

"I have a date." Quinn answers honestly. She owes Santana that much.

Santana's breathing changes and Quinn almost feels guilty.  _Almost_. "With who?"

"A boy from class."

Santana laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You've got to be fucking me. Oh wait, you  _are_."

Quinn freezes, she knows jealousy when she hears it, but she doesn't know if it's allowed. She doesn't know how Santana got there when Quinn clearly hasn't gotten past the first thing. "I'm not gay." She repeats, again, even though it's practically lost it's meaning by now.

Santana scowls into the phone. "You know what, Quinn? Keep telling yourself that. Keep telling yourself that even though you fucked me, initiated it, reciprocated it, and then last week was begging for it."

Quinn felt her cheeks flush  _again_  (dammit) at the memory of Santana hovering over her, her body nestled in between Quinn's legs and her hand on Quinn's thigh. Her cheeks flush at the memory of Santana teasing her and Quinn constantly muttering 'please'.

Quinn bit her lip. "Santana, we're friends, please don't take this personally."

"Whatever, Q."

Quinn tries to hold it in when she's left with only a dial tone. She tries not to cry and tells herself that this is what she's always wanted.

* * *

The date is horrendous. Kevin-or is it Kyle?-doesn't pay, he eats all of her dinner, his arm feels too heavy, and when he kisses her at the end...well, let's just say Quinn would be an idiot to repeat that experience.

Her heart feels heavy and her head feels numb and all Quinn wants to do is forget this night, along with the past few months.

* * *

Santana doesn't call her the first few weeks and Quinn brushes it off like she's brushed off everything else. She holds out hope that Santana will cave (even though she knows that she won't).

Before Quinn knows it a month has passed and she still jumps every time her phone rings, her body filled with some kind-of unproven and unsolicited hope. That's what happens when she hears her phone vibrate against her table. She picks it up without looking at the caller ID, her voice as hopeful as the rest of her.

"Santana?"

"No." A soft and almost too quiet voice answers, and Quinn shudders at the memories it brings. "Quinnie? It's your mother."

"I know."

Judy doesn't acknowledge anything else. Just like always, her mother pushes on with everything that's only mattered to her. "Quinnie, your father is ill. He's had a heart attack."

Quinn feels her blood run cold at the mention of the man who threw her out. The man who taught her how to not love anything and everything. "But he's only fifty eight."

Judy doesn't hesitate, her voice gaining strength as she continues and Quinn can't help but wonder if she's drunk right now. "The doctor says he suffers from too much stress in his life."

"Wait," Quinn starts, confused. "How do you know this? You guys aren't together anymore."

Judy hesitates. "Well, Quinnie, I've been meeting to tell you...your father and I have been in contact recently and, well, he's changed."

Quinn shudders, anger coursing through her body. She didn't have to wonder anymore, she knew, her mother was just as drunk right now as she had been for the first seventeen years of Quinn's life. It would have been devastating if Quinn wasn't used to it. "I don't get it."

"When you get older your body betrays you, Quinnie."

"Maybe it betrayed him because he treated it badly." Quinn snipes, her voice leaking irritation. She was done with this conversation, she was done with acting like her father, with treating people how her father always treated them. Maybe she was gay, maybe she wasn't. Either way, Santana deserved more than somebody who was barely present, in a friendship and in a relationship.

Judy sighed, as if she couldn't understand how Quinn could respond in such a way. "Quinn, I need you home this weekend. Your father needs you."

Quinn steeled herself, and did something for herself for the first time in a long time. "I can't make it. I'll be in New York."

She didn't regret hanging up on her mother in that moment, and years down the road when she would think about this memory, she wouldn't regret it then, either.

* * *

It's a few days later and she's standing in front of Rachel, Kurt, and Santana's loft.

She had plans, big plans, a plan that was almost exactly like the one that started this whole thing. But life, like this plan, didn't go as planned and maybe that was a good thing. She was going to wait until the weekend so that she could show up and possibly woo Santana, whatever wooing Santana Lopez meant. But for the first time Quinn was anxious for life to start, for herself to feel like she finally had someone and spot in the world.

So, instead of waiting, Quinn ditched her Thursday classes and hopped on the first train to New York. She texted Rachel to ask her when Santana would be home from work only for Rachel to respond with Santana's schedule and a:

**Rachel:**   _Frankly, it's about time you got your head out of your ass, Quinn. I know Santana can be difficult, believe me, but that's no reason to string her along just because you don't know what you want. Like Santana frequently points out, she's a hot commodity, she won't be alone for long. So get on with it, please, because I can't handle one more night of watching Scarface._

Quinn wanted to send back a message that was more bite than bark, but she retracted. Today was not about that, today was about making amends. Which brings her to now.

She raises her hand and knocks softer than she intended to, and Quinn almost thinks that this knock is imitating her life. She hears footsteps padding across the floor and she knows from the clacking of boots that it's Santana. She readies herself for the worst when the door unlocks and slides open.

Santana is standing there in a skirt and bra only, her white t-shirt in her left hand and her boots zipped to her knees. She's breathtaking and Quinn feels an emotion course through her that she got all too used to back in Lima. "You answer the door like  _that_?" Quinn practically spits out, her hands itching to cover Santana's skin before somebody else can see her.

Santana crossed her arms defensively, her cheerio glare perfectly in place. "What's it to you?"

"I'm here." Quinn says as if it's the answer to all of their problems, as if it's an excuse. Maybe it is.

Santana narrows her eyes and Quinn briefly feels like Brittany and it's weird. "That doesn't prove anything."

Quinn bites her lip, already feeling like she's in the usual dance that they always fall into. "Doesn't it?"

Santana's arms drop and her shoulders deflate. "God, Quinn, why are you always so difficult? Sometimes I just wish you-"

Quinn pushes past Santana and steps into the living room, her gym bag hanging over her shoulder. "You what? Wish that I was more like  _Brittany?_ "

Santana whirls around, her face contorted into a look Quinn can't decipher. "Don't even, she has nothing to do with this and you know it."

"Do I?" Quinn asks, curious because she doesn't really know anything anymore.

"Quinn, is this really what we're going to fight about right now? You ditched me for some boy, don't speak to me for over a month, and then show up spitting some shit about Brittany? I mean, what do you want from me?"

Quinn sighed, her shoulders trembling. She settled on honesty, the one thing she's avoided since this whole thing started. "Everything. I want everything, I want the truth, I want the lies, I want the fucking bitch mode you've perfected."

Santana looks at her and her face looks hesitant. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Santana took a step forward, dropping the shirt on the floor. "Okay...well, you give me something, I'll give you something."

Quinn licked her lips. "I've always thought we fit well together, even when we were cheerleaders and hated each other."

Santana smirked. "I've always hated the way you looked at Finn, like he was your ticket to a good life instead of a ticket to ending up just like your parents."

"I've always thought you were pretty."

Santana shrugged as if Quinn's statement had always been obvious. "I've always thought you were beautiful."

Quinn shrugs when Santana stops in front of her, not comfortable with revealing this much of herself but pushing forward anyway. She owes it to Santana, she owes it to whatever this thing is. "I might be gay." Quinn whispers, almost too afraid to actually say it out loud.

Santana smiles softly, her hand grazing Quinn's right shoulder. "I might have already known that."

Quinn feels tears sting her eyes but she forces herself to not look away. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Santana agrees. "And, to answer your earlier question, Brittany used to say 'Never go back, only go forward.' And I agree with her on that."

"Yeah?" Quinn asks, feeling incredibly pleased because it's an answer if she's ever heard one.

Santana nods. "Yeah."

Quinn steps closer, her arms wrapping around Santana's waist and she thinks that maybe they've always belonged here, it was just a matter of her noticing. "Please don't-I can't- _Santana_." Quinn almost wails, and it would be embarrassing if Santana wasn't already pulling Quinn into her partially clothed body.

Santana put her forehead against Quinn's, her arms wrapping around Quinn's shoulders. "Jesus, Quinn. I  _know_ , okay? Just...can I kiss you now?"

Quinn nodded the best she could and Santana's lips covered hers quickly, her mouth devouring every word and every protest and everything Quinn has ever been capable of. She likes it, but what's more, she almost loves it.

They break apart when they hear the door slamming shut, and are met with an irritated looking Kurt. He isn't phased by their previous position and Quinn is relieved. "God, any creeper could have just walked in! Close the door and get a room, you two!"

"I will when I actually have one!" Santana shouts back, her hand gripping Quinn's waist.

Santana's demeanor is entirely possessive and Quinn actually likes it. She likes everything about this moment, from Kurt's commentary to Rachel's awful drapes to Santana's lips on her cheek. She likes everything about this moment, but even more, she loves it and it's enough to make Quinn feel like she's important and like she matters.

It's enough to make Quinn feel  _happy_.

 


	2. Cause It’s A Bittersweet Symphony, This Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, I wasn't going to write a sequel to my story because it was intended to be a one-shot. However, I got drunk and wrote this and I actually like it, so here's a somewhat sequel! Now this one-shot is a two-shot, haha. Please read and review and let me know if you enjoy this as much as I do.
> 
> A few things: the italic parts are quotes from two P!nk songs. Try and Learn to Love Again. This is not a songfic, I just wanted quotes from the songs that inspired this present. For the record, it's not intended to be a songfic, because parts of it do not have song quotes. Also, this is set three years after L-O-V-E's Just Another Word I Never Learned to Pronounce. Enjoy!

_Where there is desire_

_There is gonna be a flame_

In the end, it's Santana who breaks Quinn's heart.

Quinn knows that in the end their relationship had far exceeded the expectations people had placed upon them, but it still ended in the way that everyone had assumed it would. In complete and utter devastation. Quinn's to be exact.

It took three years, six months, and fourteen days for their relationship to end. It took Quinn coming home from work just to find Santana and Brittany pressed against the fridge, Brittany's tongue shoved down Santana's throat, for Quinn's heart to break and for her to become overwhelmed with the worst feeling she's ever felt.

And she was hit by a fucking car and in a wheelchair for nearly six months, so that's saying something.

It took 932 'I love you's', 652 'I'll never leave you's', 429 'you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen', 1024 sexcapades (Santana's libido was insatiable), 53 'move in with me's', Quinn moving in with Santana into their own apartment, Quinn transferring to NYU, Santana declaring her love through song (which, cheesy, but it still stole Quinn's breath away), and 36 times where Santana hinted towards marriage, for Santana to prove all of Quinn's worst fears.

It took three years, six months, and fourteen days to build a life with Santana where Quinn was actually  _happy_. It only took two minutes and eighteen seconds to destroy all of that.

She should have known that it was only a matter of time before Brittany claimed what was hers, what had always been hers. But Quinn had almost believed that there was a future for her with Santana, Santana had  _made_  her believe it, and Quinn hates herself for it. She was a sucker in the worst way, just like her mother, and now she was spending the rest of her life just like her mother.

Alone.

* * *

_Funny how the heart can be deceiving_

_More than just a couple times_

At first Quinn was devastated. She crumbled underneath the image of Brittany's mouth covering what had been Quinn's not even five minutes earlier. Her devastation bled through in the end, because she had bolted towards their bedroom and started shoving her things into a bag. She ignored Santana's pleas to just 'listen' or 'stop' or let her 'explain'. She was too devastated to hear anything other than what she saw, so she took her things and left, leaving a crying Santana behind.

She didn't say a word to Brittany because for Quinn, their friendship was over.

She went straight to Rachel and Kurt's (and now Blaine's) apartment because she didn't know where else to go. She was twenty-two and she barely had any friends outside of the ones she shared with Santana. She let them (all three of them) rant and rave about Santana and Brittany and how they were going to  _kill_  her because she didn't know what else to do. She was just so very, very tired. She didn't want to talk to Santana, she didn't even want to think about her.

So she didn't.

* * *

She secures a job at a publishing company a few days later. It's bittersweet, just like her life is in this moment. She had graduated from NYU four months earlier and had been vying for this because it was the job she truly wanted, instead of the business manager position that her family was trying to thrust upon her.

She wants to call Santana because she pushed Quinn to try out for this instead of letting her settle, just like she always has pushed Quinn. She wants to call her but she can't.

So she doesn't.

* * *

_Where there is a flame_

_Someone's bound to get burned_

Santana tries to call her, text her, visit her, and every attempt meets the same end: Quinn's avoidance.

Santana successfully corners her a few weeks later, and that's saying something because Quinn has been acting like a mother fucking ninja. She never expected those weird lectures that Sue Sylvester used to give them on 'How to properly evade your nemesis while still getting the job done' would come in handy, but they do, especially so.

Santana's waiting for her when Quinn is shimmying down Rachel's fire escape to get to work. Quinn could try and run but she knows it's pointless, Santana is still in excellent shape and Quinn still has back spasms whenever she moves too quickly. Quinn lets Santana corner her for old times sake, even though all she really wants to do is slap her or run.

Santana looks like a complete mess. She has no makeup on and she's wearing Quinn's Yale t-shirt even though it's basically trash by now. She's curling and uncurling her her fingers. It's a nervous habit that Santana has never realized she did and when Quinn sees it, it makes her look at Santana fondly, almost recklessly.

"I didn't kiss her, Quinn. She kissed  _me_." Is what Santana says first. Of all the things and reassurances she could have uttered to Quinn, that was the one Santana chose.

To Quinn, that was just an excuse. "You still let her lips touch  _yours."_ Quinn whispered, not caring that she sounded possessive and controlling, because she was both of those things.

Tears spring to Santana's eyes. It's weird to see how vulnerable Santana's become since their teen years, and if Quinn didn't love her so damn much, she might have hated it. "So that's it, huh? You're leaving me because Brittany fucking kissed me?"

Quinn felt sick to her stomach. She pushed a finger into Santana's chest, feeling all the anger from the situation course through her. Santana looked surprised but didn't move. "No, that's not it and you  _know_  it."

"She's my best friend." Santana protested weakly, her shoulders dropping in unwanted defeat.

Quinn jabbed Santana again, hoping that it hurt like she did. "Best friends don't do what she did, Santana, and you know it."

"But's it's  _Brittany._ "

Quinn pulled her finger back as if Santana had burned her. It felt like she had, it felt like Santana was burning everything. Quinn tried to stop the tears that sprang to her eyes before they could fall, but her effort was pointless, because they fell anyway. "I told you how I felt about your relationship with her, Santana, and you told me I was imagining things. You told me I was overreacting, you told me I had nothing to worry about."

"You don't!" Santana exclaimed, her eyes softening as Quinn continued to openly cry. Santana took a step forward to comfort her. Quinn held her hand up to stop Santana from continuing. She couldn't handle an embrace from Santana right now, it would end her all over again. Santana's eyes watered again. "I pick you, Quinn. Not Brittany.  _You_."

Quinn released a sob at the words because they were what she wanted to hear, but they weren't what she needed right now. "Yeah, for now."

Santana's face morphed into something Quinn had never seen directed towards her before and it was strange. Strange that Quinn Fabray was standing here of all places. Strange that Quinn Fabray was standing next to Santana Lopez while calmly trying to discuss how the latter broke her fucking heart.

Santana shuddered. "After all this time you still don't trust me?"

Quinn faltered, not really sure how to answer. She came from a long line of people who only did what was best for themselves instead of what was best for everyone. She had tried to change that with Santana, but it was like Finn always used to say, 'a zebra can't really change it's stripes.'

"Are you going to stay friends with her?" Quinn asked, throwing Santana off guard.

"She's my best friend." Santana answered, trying not to shrug.

Quinn licked her lips and nodded. "Then,  _no._ I don't trust you." She turned around and started walking away. "I have to go, I'm going to be late."

"Quinn!" Santana yelled, exasperated. "Wait."

Quinn spared her a glance over her shoulder. "Goodbye, Santana."

She hated Santana but she  _loved_  her even more, and she couldn't figure out how it was possible to do both.

* * *

_You were a thief_

_You stole my heart_

Santana didn't give up though. She still texted, called, and showed up on Rachel's doorstep regularly, only to be politely turned away. It took six more weeks for Quinn to save up enough money for her to move out and she had every intention of doing so.

She needed to get away from Santana and everything that reminded her of Santana.

She told Rachel just as much when she was cooking everyone dinner (it's something she did regularly, but it was rare that Blaine, Kurt, Rachel, and Quinn were all home at the same time on a thursday night.) The way Rachel glared at her turned Quinn's blood cold and Quinn had to wonder if they've switched roles somehow in the past few years.

Blaine leans over the table, extending his fingers away from his blackberry (he's a publicist for one of the biggest boy bands ever, and he's constantly glued to his phone for new information. Getting the position literally was pure luck, because the group was made of previous Warblers and they had sought Blaine out after he finished pursuing his business degree-with a minor in drama, of course) and covered Quinn's hand. "What Rachel means to say is that, while well intentioned, your idea is ridiculous."

Quinn wants to grimace. It sometimes feels like Rachel, Kurt, and Blaine have all wrapped into one giant blob due to how long they've lived together, and it's  _weird._  "Um, okay?"

Kurt chooses that moment to pull his bluetooth from out of his ear and sit at the table (to Quinn's left). "I agree with Rachel." (He's an assistant editor and Vogue and his days are almost as long as his nights, but he loves it, and Quinn assumes that that's what matters.)

Quinn frowns when Blaine nods his head in agreement. "I appreciate the hospitality, Rach, you know I do. But it's been two months. I can't just crash with you guys until I die. Imagine how sad and old I'd be."

Rachel rolls her eyes and stirs the pot. She turned her attention back to Quinn after wiping her hands on her apron. She looked a lot like Martha Stewart in that moment, and that was also pretty terrifying. "Of course you're not going to be here until you die. Just until you get back..." rachel trailed off, seemingly realizing that whatever she was about to say wouldn't be welcomed.

Blaine pulled his hand away from Quinn and covered his mouth in shock, like he was the one who should be appalled by whatever Rachel was insinuating. Quinn rolled her eyes, drama queens, the whole lot of them. "Until I what, Rachel?"

Rachel fiddled with her apron nervously. "Until you get back together with Santana."

Blaine gasps, which,  _really_ , and Kurt steels his gaze. Quinn bit her cheek to prevent herself from lashing out. It's a tactic she learned over the years and it's the only thing that really worked for her. "What do you mean, until?"

Rachel shrugged helplessly. "All I'm saying, Quinn, is that while I admire your resolve as well as your sense of what's wrong and right...I just don't see you staying mad. I mean, Santana technically didn't do anything wrong and I was just thinking that when you acknowledged that, you'd get back together and then have sex on another piece of my furniture."

Blaine pulled his hand away from his mouth. "I actually agree with that. Wait, what piece of furniture did they have sex on?"

"Nothing important," Rachel directed at Blaine, her hand waving dismissively. "Just the kitchen table, in the shower, the fire escape, Santana's old bookshelf, and your desk. Oh, and perhaps your bed as well."

Blaine looked at Quinn in disbelief. "In my bed?"

Quinn shrugged sheepishly. "You and Kurt have the most comfortable sheets."

Kurt drummed his fingers against the table, reminding everyone that he was still present. "Don't worry about it, I burned the sheets already." Kurt turned his body until he was facing Rachel. "You don't think there's anything wrong with Santana staying friends with Brittany after Brittany kissed her? You can't deny that Brittany has acted as though it's only a matter of  _when_  they get back together, and not  _if._ "

Rachel shook her head. "Yes, but it's Brittany."

"How is that an excuse?" Kurt asked before Quinn could. Quinn snapped her mouth shut and looked over at Blaine. He shrugged at her helplessly and crossed his eyes.

"It's not, but Brittany has been her best friend since she was thirteen. I think it'd be difficult for anyone to abandon not only their first love but their oldest friend, as well."

"That's not true," Quinn cut in, calling attention to herself. "Santana and I met when we were seven, years before she ever met Brittany."

"Yes, but Santana's in love with  _you_  Quinn, so you don't fill the position of best friend anymore."

Quinn frowned, anger bubbling towards the surface. That's exactly what Santana used to say. "Why not?"

Rachel looked at Quinn as if it was obvious. Quinn was hit with a sense of nostalgia, she could almost remember the old Rachel Berry like it was yesterday. "Because she wants to spend the rest of her life with you, Quinn. You can't be her best friend anymore because you're more important than that."

Kurt's mouth dropped open and Blaine wiped at his eyes furiously. Quinn ignored them both, angry that Rachel would tell such outright lies. "You don't know that."

The water in the pot behind Rachel started to boil, but she ignored it. "Actually," Rachel said (all dramatics and big personality traits gone now that she was actually on her way towards being a star) "I  _do_. I saw the ring."

It's Kurt's turn to gasp and Quinn feels her blood run cold. It isn't true, it can't be, because Santana wouldn't want to spend a future with her. Not when she has Brittany.

Like always, it's Quinn's undeniable traits that get her in the end. Her inability to trust anyone but herself, her fear of loving anything that could leave her, her hatred for happiness that would never be in her reach, her doubts that people were around for reasons other than to use her, her acknowledgement of her beauty and how it's the only thing people really like about her...those things eat at her until she's almost nothing. It's hard to abandon them, especially when they've been there for her for so long.

Quinn felt her throat go dry. "You're lying." She rasped out and she felt Kurt grab her hand before squeezing it.

Rachel shook her head sadly. "I wish I was."

Blaine waited out a few beats of silence before turning his gaze to Quinn, always the hopeless romantic. "So, what are you going to do?" It was clear that he was trying not to sound excited, but the joy in his voice seeped through anyway.

Quinn stood up from the table abruptly, letting Kurt's hand fall with everything else. "Nothing."

And that's what she did because that's what she'd been reduced to: nothing.

* * *

A few more months passed without much protest. Quinn continued to stay with Rachel and Kurt, using Santana's old room. It was weird because she had built so many memories here with Santana, but it was also nice. It felt like she wasn't completely giving up, and it was nice.

In all honesty she didn't know what she was waiting for. Quinn was a vile, jealous, insecure little thing and she didn't know what she was waiting for, but she knew that she was waiting. She figured that it had to do with Brittany because a lot of her insecurities came from her once-friend.

Santana had loved Brittany first and Quinn still remembered a time when Santana had promised Brittany forever, long before Quinn. It was enough to plant seeds of doubts and fear, and Quinn was insecure enough to let them grow.

Santana still tried to get ahold of Quinn, but her persistence was starting to waiver. She hadn't given up, not completely, but she wasn't as adamant as she had been in the beginning. Quinn wanted to shout 'aha', as if Santana was finally proving Quinn right all along, like she was proving that she couldn't love Quinn forever.

Let's be real, not even her mother was capable of loving her unconditionally and endlessly.

* * *

_But just because it burns_

_Doesn't mean you're gonna die_

_You've gotta get up and try, and try, and try_

It's four months later when Santana gives up completely. Quinn wants to feel sad, but mostly she just feels sated, because she had been right. Santana would give up eventually, and it was comforting to know that Quinn could still call them like she saw them.

Kurt and Rachel would shoot worried glances at her every now and then, especially when they were talking to Santana and didn't want her to notice. She wasn't stupid, she knew they would still hang out with her, she was just glad they weren't forcing her to hang out with Santana.

Sure, Santana probably did love her. However, at the end of the day she still picked Brittany over her. Just like always.

* * *

_I let you see the parts of me_

_That weren't all that pretty_

It's nearing eleven months since the moment her life got flipped over when Quinn walks in on an argument between Rachel and Kurt. She intends to back away because their fights are intense and bitchy and cruel, and she isn't in the mood for that. She had a long day at work where she had to ignore advances from her creepy male coworkers.

She's pulling her key back out of the door when Kurt's words catch her attention.

"I can't believe you would do that to Quinn!"

Rachel threw her hands up in frustration. "Quinn? What about Santana? It's been nearly a year, Kurt, and Quinn has consistently shot Santana down. Do you honestly think she should sit by and wait patiently for a girl who doesn't want her back?"

Kurt glared at Rachel, his face flushed in anger. "You don't know that Rachel. You can't just make decisions like this for people!"

"I'm trying, Kurt, to not butt in. But it's been nearly a year. I can't just watch Santana disappear, she's my friend, too." Rachel defended.

Kurt shook his head. "Does she know you have ulterior motives?"

Quinn froze, curious as to where this conversation was going. Rachel glared at Kurt. "It isn't like that."

Kurt stared at Rachel defiantly. "Answer me, Rachel. Does Santana know that you're in love with Quinn? That you've been in love with her since we were eighteen, that you whispered it to her when you thought nobody was listening, when she wasn't supposed to wake back up?"

Rachel looked affronted and Quinn felt a shiver creep through her spine. This she had never seen coming, but even now, when she heard Kurt blatantly stating that Rachel  _loved_ her...Quinn couldn't believe such a thing. Rachel probably loved the idea of her, like all people did. She didn't know the real Quinn, nobody did. Well, nobody besides...Santana.

"I would never cross that line, Kurt, and you know it."

"Do I?" Kurt asked, seemingly confused. "You set Santana up on a date. A  _date_ , Rachel. You have to know how that's going to make Quinn feel."

Quinn felt her heart drop, her body reacting before her mind could. She took a step into the room. "Santana's going on a date?" Quinn asked, trying not to sound devastated and failing wonderfully. Just like always.

Kurt whirled around, caught off guard. Rachel stared at Quinn, her body going rigid. Rachel cleared her throat. "How long have you been there?"

Quinn continued forward, undeterred. She walked until she was only a pace in front of Rachel, her body a few feet away from Kurt. "Long enough."

Kurt shook his head. "I'm sorry, Quinn, but I can't put up with this anymore. I have to get to work." Kurt turned around and headed towards the door, grabbing his side bag as he walked out the door. He shut the door behind him, ignoring how the slam echoed throughout the apartment and throughout Quinn's heart.

"Rach?"

Rachel smiled, her eyes watery and her hands just as fidgety as before. "It seems like we always end up here, huh?"

Quinn laughed even though she really wanted to cry. "It's because we're a lot alike."

"That's true," Rachel agreed. Rachel sighed and rolled her shoulders back. "I set Santana up on a date."

"With Brittany?" Quinn asked, terrified that Rachel's answer would be the one she always thought she'd here.

Rachel shook her head, her eyes sad. "Santana doesn't hang out with Brittany any more. At least, not alone."

Quinn froze. "What? Why would she do that?"

Rachel held back tears. "Because she loves you, Quinn. It's not impossible to love you. You know that, right?"

Quinn didn't answer because she knew the answer would be pathetic. She didn't want to explain to Rachel that she didn't know that, that she didn't think she'd ever know that because she wouldn't let herself. Instead, she did the stupidest thing she'd done in years. The stupidest thing since letting Santana go. She leaped forward and attached her lips to Rachel's.

Rachel pulled away immediately. "What are you doing?"

Quinn leaned forward again just to be turned down,  _again_. "Please." Quinn begged, hating how desperate she sounded.

Rachel faltered. She nodded her head after a beat, hearing the question that Quinn was actually asking her.

They had sex that night.

Quinn wouldn't call it making love because she only reserved that for one person, the person, and she wouldn't do that. It was rough and hard and everything Rachel wasn't, but Rachel still let Quinn use her that way, just like Quinn used everything else.

It wasn't bad. On the contrary, it was nearly fantastic. If this had been another time and another place, Quinn could have seen it happening, but it wasn't meant to be. Rachel noticed it, too.

They lied together after they were done, trying to regain their breathing patterns. Rachel scratched Quinn's elbow to draw her attention and Quinn lifted her gaze to Rachel's.

Rachel looked embarrassed. "I was, you know, in love with you when we were eighteen."

Quinn nodded. "I think I was in love with you, too. Secretly."

Rachel laughed, her voice carefree. "As I got older and did newer and bigger things...I think I realized that I was more in love with the idea of you then I actually was in love with you."

"Likewise." Quinn agreed, because it was true. She had always been jealous of how free Rachel was and it had manifested itself in the worst ways.

Rachel pulled away. "I'm not anymore, you know? After seeing you with Santana...well, I realized what real love looked like." Rachel gave her a small smile. "I know what this was and what it wasn't. You're even now, Quinn."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Rachel narrowed her eyes. Her body uncovered. "You do. While I'm glad that I can finally check this off my bucket list, I do know it'll never happen again. I know that this was just another Quinn Fabray scheme to get back at Santana, even if you don't. So, please, call her. Before she goes on that date with that horrible, horrible girl."

Quinn stared at Rachel, completely confused. "I thought you set her up?"

Rachel stood up, her naked body shining in the light. "I did...let's just say that I noticed her dedication was waning, so I set her up on a date with a terrible person. Literally, I actually hate this girl. She makes me want to throw up in my mouth a little bit."

Quinn stared up at Rachel in awe. "You would have made a great cheerio."

"I know. Too bad you were all too crazy to notice my potential back then." She started to head towards her room, leaving Quinn behind to pick up the pieces.

"Wait." Quinn called. "Why did you humor me, just now?"

Rachel looked over her shoulder, a soft smile on her face. "Now you know how Santana feels."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Rachel looked up. "We just had  _sex_. Are you in love with me?"

Quinn tried not to look at Rachel like she just said something ridiculous, even though she did. "No."

"Do you intend to stop being friends with me?" Rachel asked.

"No!" Quinn almost shouted. "You're my best friend."

"Exactly."

* * *

_Just give me a reason_

_Just a little bit's enough_

Quinn dressed herself quickly and grabbed her phone. She walked towards Santana's old room (she couldn't call it hers, even now), quickly sitting down on the bed. She opened her phone and scrolled to the number she had never allowed herself to delete.

She hesitated before settling on dialing Santana's number. It took one ring, only one, before Santana picked up. She was breathless and Quinn heard something crash in the background.

"Quinn?" Santana asked, surprise taking over her tone.

Quinn ignored Santana's question, and instead focused on the noise on in the background, her mind assuming the worst. "What was that noise?"

"What?" Santana asked confused. "Oh! I was cooking pasta and I heard your ringtone and it fell to the ground...but that's okay, this is more important."

Quinn felt her heart swell and it was almost like she hadn't spent the past eleven months ignoring Santana. "Santana?"

"Yes?" Santana asked, every bit as eager as always.

"Can I come home?"

Santana released a shaky breath, her voice cracking on the phone. "God, Quinn,  _yes_. Should I come get you now?"

"What about your date?" Quinn asked, curious as to what Santana will say now that she knows that Quinn knows.

"What date?"

It takes a second for Quinn to put all the pieces together and for her to realize that Rachel Berry fucking conned her. If she wasn't in shock, she would have been impressed.

"Nevermind." Quinn said, trying to change the subject. "Can you come get me?"

"I'm leaving right now."

* * *

It took thirty-two minutes for Santana to reach Rachel's. Rachel stayed in her room and for that Quinn was thankful. Santana helped her pack, refusing to leave until every object of Quinn's was packed and put into Santana's car.

Santana was over eager and a little bit gun shy and it was nothing like the girl she fell in love with, so Quinn didn't know how to act.

Santana waited until they were in the car to say something substantial. She turned to Quinn, her eyes sad. "So does this mean we're back together?"

"I hope so."

Santana smiled. Quinn looked openly at her and noticed the small changes she wasn't around for. Santana looked smaller, which meant that she wasn't eating, which meant that she was clearly still upset. Her face looked tired and dry, which meant that she had been crying again. Quinn felt guilty. She had spent the better part of a year pretending like Santana wasn't worth her time and still Santana had waited for her.

"I'm sorry." Santana said, her hand reaching for Quinn's. "I promise that I won't be alone with Brittany ever again." Santana swore.

Quinn squeezed Santana's hand, feeling like a bitch. "No, it's fine." Santana shot Quinn a look and Quinn rolled her eyes. "I mean, it's not fine, but I trust you. More importantly, I love you." Quinn leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Santana's lips. "I'm sorry I was such an idiot. I'm sorry I let my insecurities get the best of me. I'm sorry I didn't get it before."

Santana bit her lip, her eyes glistening. "If I wasn't so happy, I would punch you for making me feel like shit for a year. Nobody makes Santana Lopez act this pathetic. Nobody but... _you_. I love you, Quinn, and I promise to only love you until death decides to take my ass."

Quinn laughed. "Is that a proposal?"

Santana shook her head. "No. That's not a good enough proposal for the Quinn Fabray." Santana said cheekily. "Quinn Fabray deserves rose petals, love songs, eternal commitments, and every other cheesy thing that she hates."

"You know me so well."

Santana smiled sadly. " I hope I still do."

Quinn looked away, her heart pounding in a way that only Santana could make it. "Do you think we'll be okay?"

Santana shrugged. "Maybe not right now. We have a lot to work out."

"Okay." Quinn answered, already defeated.

Santana squeezed her hand, a glint in her eye that was every bit the seventeen year old Santana Lopez. "Stop being such a sad sack, Fabray. The important thing is that we will work it out."

* * *

_Just a second, we're not broken just bent_

_And we can learn to love again_

Santana carried all of Quinn's luggage up the stairs to their old apartment, insisting that it was the 'manly' thing to do for her woman. Quinn laughed fondly and let Santana do as she pleased, just like always.

She didn't want to start off this relationship with a lie, though, so when they were settled and the clock was nearing midnight, Quinn turned towards Santana and told her about what had happened with Rachel. She didn't say when because it made her feel dirty, but she did say that it meant nothing, that she loved Santana, that it only happened because she wanted to get back at Santana and all she got was perspective.

Santana sat on the bed, her hands curling and uncurling again. Except this time it was in anger. "What?"

Quinn bit her lip nervously. "Um, I slept with Rachel."

Santana stared at Quinn. Her eyes narrow and her hand over her heart. She leaped up. "I'm going to fucking kill her."

Quinn jumped in front of her and tried to push Santana back on the bed. "No, Santana,  _please_. It didn't mean anything."

"Of course it didn't. It was your stupid ass attempt to hurt me even more. Well, congratulations, Quinn, you certainly took the fucking cake." Santana tried to push past her but Quinn held her back, her hands gripping Santana's sweatshirt.

"Santana, listen, I'm sorry! I'm fucked up, okay, and I'm sorry!" Quinn shouted, nearing tears. "I didn't...I couldn't believe that you actually loved me. Not because I didn't trust you but because I didn't trust  _me_." Quinn released her grip on Santana's shoulders, her hands falling to her sides. Santana stayed still though, her eyes trained on Quinn. "I was an idiot and I'm insecure and I try to best people so that they can hurt more than I can. I'm fucked up and I screw up and I don't know how to actually believe in things like this." Quinn placed her hand over Santana's heart, ignoring how the girl wanted to pull away. "You're better than me and you deserve better than me and I'm terrified that you'll realize that one day. So, yes, I slept with Rachel, but believe me when I said it meant  _nothing_. It meant nothing because I don't want her and I don't think I ever could." Quinn licked her lips. "I love you. I love you so fucking much that it hurts me and it terrifies me and I'm constantly waiting for the ball to drop. But I love you and I'm selfish, so I plan to never let you go." Santana stopped trying to pull away and Quinn let her hand fall again. "I want you Santana, but what's worse is that I want  _everything_  with you. I want a proposal and a wedding, even though my mother would never attend. I want...God, I want anniversary's and a house and growing old together. I want kids. Santana, I want  _kids_ , and I hate that because I'm terrified of being a mother...of being my mother." Quinn felt Santana grab her hand. "But I want kids, I want kids with brown hair and tan skin. Kids who aren't afraid of anything or anyone, including falling in love. I want kids and pets and  _fuck_  I want to have sex at two in the afternoon on a kitchen table, and I want that all with  _you_. So, please, don't go. Stay here. Stay with me." Quinn finished, her voice winded.

Santana stared at her, her eyes starting to glaze over with tears. Santana cleared her throat. "They had you watching romantic comedies on the regular, huh?"

Quinn laughed, the tension leaving her shoulders. "Nearly every day."

Santana nodded. Her hand lacing through Quinn's. "Quinn?"

"Hmm?"

Santana pulled Quinn towards her and wrapped her arms around her. "Marry me?"

"Yes." Quinn answered, without hesitation, surprising even herself.

Santana huffed. "I'm serious."

Quinn wrapped her arms tighter around Santana. "Me too."

* * *

In the end, Santana re-proposes, with flowers, chocolates, a horse carriage ride, and sex in the restaurant bathroom. It's so perfect that Quinn counts herself lucky.

Santana bans Quinn from seeing Rachel for the first few months, and Quinn relents, because she had just done the same thing to Santana not too long ago. But after the third month Quinn tells Santana that she wants Rachel in the wedding, so Santana's going to have to get over it. Especially since Brittany was going to be Santana's maid of honor.

Santana agrees to go talk to Rachel and Quinn considers it a win.

That is, until she figures out what actually happened. It turns out that talking to Santana is the equivalent as threatening Rachel. Not only did she threaten Rachel, but she also punched her in the face. Rachel had to wear a nose-cast for six weeks. She accepted the responsibility as though it was her cross to bear.

After that, they were okay. They weren't better, obviously, and Santana didn't completely let it go, but she did move on from it and forgive Rachel (as well as Quinn).

* * *

Quinn is twenty-five when she marries Santana Lopez.

She's supposed to be heading towards her reception at the moment, but currently Santana's head is underneath Quinn's wedding dress and Quinn can't even think clearly, so she has no idea how anyone expects her to even show up.

Santana swipes her tongue across a sensitive area and Quinn grips the handle that's in the handicap bathroom of their reception hall. Quinn threads her fingers through Santana's hair lovingly, her fingers massaging Santana's scalp lovingly as she brought Quinn closer to the edge.

Quinn can't help but hope that everything in life is this easy. She can't help but hope that she's growing. She doesn't let a day pass without telling Santana that she loves her, because she knows how important it is now.

She knows how important it is to love now.

It took 2021 'I love you's', 1156 'I'll never leave you's', 982 'you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen', 3076 sexcapades (Santana's libido was insatiable, even more so now), 13 'marry me's', Quinn moving back in with Santana into their apartment, Santana punching Rachel, Santana proposing to her while in the back of a horse carriage ride (which, cheesy, but it still stole Quinn's breath away, like Santana always did), and 37 times where Santana hinted towards children, for Santana to prove all of Quinn's worst fears wrong.

And she couldn't be happier.


	3. It's Been Written In The Scars On Our Hearts (We're Not Broken, Just Bent & We Can Learn To Love Again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So there's this. This is the final and last piece of this story, I will not write another sequel. I had no intention of writing this but then my friend asked me how I thought Quinn would react to being a mother. My answer is this. Some will love it and some will hate it, but the point of this is to show how intimacy and love and people can change over time because of circumstance. I hope you all enjoy it! Please read and review :).
> 
> A/N: This is for thirteenthlocksmith who I found out was nice enough to say nice things about me all on tumblr. Whoever you are, this fic is dedicated for you, and I hope you read it some day! And that it doesn't suck.

_You've been havin' real bad dreams oh oh_

Quinn is thirty when the dreams start.

They're not frequent, not really, because she doesn't think her mind could even do that to her. But they do appear often enough for Quinn to start wondering what the hell is going on in her mind.

She's thirty and she's married and happy and everything else she never thought she'd be. She's the head of the publishing company (the one that took a chance on her first) because she's always been incredibly loyal to the people who made her feel like she _counted_. Santana is a musical teacher, believe it or not, and she loves it. She loves teaching kids in high school things that she learned back in Glee (even more so if Quinn is being honest, because while well intentioned, was never very good at actual teaching) and it shows. Not a day goes by that Santana and Quinn aren't happy together.

Overall, Quinn is in love with her life, her wife, and the future that they're building. It hasn't been easy. Heavens, no. Santana and Quinn fight on the regular, but instead of fighting about captaincy and boys, they're fighting about who forgot to do the dishes and how Santana always leaves her damn socks on the floor. It's different, but it's not bad, and Quinn often feels like she won the lotto.

She knows that it isn't easy to love her. Her father and mother were proof of that, so Quinn counts her lucky stars that Santana continues to try and do so. She knows that she's difficult. Sometimes she escapes in herself-just like she used to-sometimes (even though she's an adult) she gets angry and scared and terrified that she's going to wake up and Santana won't be there anymore. She doesn't always tell Santana her worries or fears. She doesn't want to be Lucy Caboosey, the needy girl full of insecurities. That isn't what Santana signed on for and Quinn doesn't want to give it to her.

Sometimes she thinks that it's a lie people tell you in high school. The lie that, 'things will get better', because even though her life and her love and her everything else has gotten better, Quinn still hasn't. Sure, she's grown here and there and tried opening up where it counts. But overall? Quinn was still that terrified girl who grew up feeling so fucking  _alone_. She was still the girl who was waiting for the other shoe to drop and she couldn't figure out  _why_.

Things don't get better, they get easier, except not really because instead of loneliness Quinn now has obligations.

She mostly ignores it though, because she owes Santana the perfect picture. Santana was there for her, forgave her, fought for her, and never stopped loving her. Sure, Santana wasn't perfect either (seriously, that girl had her own tub of issues) but in this relationship she was clearly the winner.

She tries to be the best Quinn she can be and even though she really is trying it just feels like most days she's  _failing_  and Quinn doesn't understand what she's doing wrong.

The comfort and familiarity of their routine doesn't calm her, either. No, it terrifies her, because she had learned early on that when things seem too good to be true it's usually because they are.

So she tries and she loves and she breathes like every day is her last, and  _then_  the dreams start.

* * *

She's two weeks away from Santana's thirtieth birthday when Santana pushes (for the first time) the idea of having a child, and soon.

Quinn's sitting at their dining room table trying to secretly plan Santana's thirtieth birthday party without her knowing, when Santana pushes through their bedroom in nothing but her underwear. She slinks over to the table and it's highly distracting. Quinn often finds herself wondering how after all of these years Santana could still be so damn attractive. She looks almost exactly the same as she did in high school. Minus the lines around her eyes and one grey hair (the one Santana made Quinn pluck out only to have it grow out again), Santana still looked like Santana. Her outfits were still incredibly obscene and short, but more suitable for a high school. Since she was the teacher and all.

Santana slinks over towards Quinn, not trying to cover up her modesty and Quinn feels heat rise to her cheeks. It's been twelve years and Quinn still acted like a shy schoolgirl, how  _horrifying_. Santana notices immediately, like she's always noticed everything, and smirks.

"I'm surprised you managed to even get up this morning." Santana says, referring to their sexual rendezvous the night before.

Quinn blushes more at the memory. Her face heating with the images of Santana, a strap-on, and how she bent Quinn over almost every piece of furniture in their condo and just  _took_  her. She cleared her throat, hoping to clear the thoughts that would make her idle. "Well, somebody has to get up and pay the bills."

It's a lie because Quinn doesn't want Santana to come snooping. She wants this birthday to be a surprise and she needs Santana to not become curious so that it can stay that way. Santana grimaced, her eyes squinting in distaste. "Ugh, you know I hate things that involve being an adult."

Quinn laughed. "A blatant lie, but I'll take it."

Santana shrugged, her breasts moving with her shoulders, and Quinn licks her lips on reflex. Santana smirked, already knowing what Quinn was looking at. "See something you like, Q?"

"Always."

Santana continued to smirk, her smile the likes a predator would get while devouring its prey. She took a few steps forward so that she was right next to Quinn, and Quinn did her best to shuffle the papers on the desk around so that Santana wouldn't actually see anything. Santana grabbed her arm and pulled her up, before she pressed Quinn against her, Quinn's back to their table. Santana skimmed her right hand over Quinn's arm and lowered her lips to Quinn's ear, making Quinn's breath hitch in response.

"Didn't they ever teach you that if you like something you should take it?" Santana whispered in Quinn's ear. Her voice soft, sultry, and effortless.

Quinn shuddered. "That's not what they teach in grade school."

Santana laughed, her right hand trailing down Quinn's side (over her over sized t-shirt) before skimming along the hem, unabashedly. "Well," Santana said, her eyes dark and her mouth pulling away from Quinn's ear as her hand slid under Quinn's t-shirt. "That's what  _I_  teach."

Quinn closed her eyes, her body already reacting to Santana's fingers as they grazed her thigh lightly. "You sound like a horrible teacher."

"On the contrary," Santana said, her hand stilling at the front of Quinn's underwear. "I'm the  _best_ , don't you agree?"

Quinn wanted to say  _no_  because she knows what this is. It's Santana's battle for dominance. Quinn knows that Santana gets a kick every time Quinn folds before her. Quinn usually isn't one to give up so easily, but they've been at this for almost twelve years and her body knows what's coming (what it wants). Quinn's about to make some half-assed attempt to protest when Santana's fingers push past underwear and slowly slide inside of her. So instead of protesting, Quinn just relents and says, "yes."

Santana leans forward, her tongue licking the shell of Quinn's ear. "Say it."

Quinn groans. She doesn't want to say it, she just wants to feel this good for forever. Santana uses her left hand to grab Quinn's left leg and pull it up until it's wrapped around her body. Santana stilled her movements, her lips hovering over Quinn's pulse point and Quinn huffed at Santana's antics. "You're insatiable."

Santana licked Quinn's neck. "Say it and I'll continue."

Quinn opened her eyes, her hips thrusting forward only for Santana to push them harder against the table, trapping her movements. "Baby." Quinn whined, her body wanting to move into Santana's touch.

Santana tutted. "Don't baby me,  _baby_. Say it."

Quinn relented, her body aching already. "You're the best."

Santana smirked and pulled back, her fingers sliding out before Santana thrusted forward harshly, three fingers sinking into Quinn. Quinn closed her eyes, her body arching up into Santana's touch. Santana lowered her head to Quinn's ear, her lips tickling against Quinn's earlobe. "Again."

Quinn grunted as Santana pulled out and pushed back in, her hips pushing Quinn's back into the corner of their dining table so harshly that it hurt. Quinn groaned. "You're the best."

"You've ever had?" Santana asked, already knowing the answer, but loving how she could make Quinn say it in a moment like this. She lifted Quinn's leg a little higher so that she could get a better position, her hips lining up with her hand as she thrust in again.

"Fuck," Quinn said, her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

Santana started to pick up speed, her thrusts coming in a little quicker and the table creaking with every thrust forward she made. "That's not an answer."

Santana pulled up Quinn's t-shirt until her bare breasts were touching Quinn's, and Quinn moaned. It was times like these that made Quinn wonder how she didn't know she was gay, because now that she's had  _this_  Quinn doesn't think she could ever give it back. "Fuck," Quinn repeats, Santana's fingers thrusting into her carelessly now. "You're the best I've ever had."

Santana bit Quinn's neck and Quinn lifted her other leg so that it wrapped around Santana's back. Quinn gripped Santana's shoulders. "I bet you wish that I could take you like this all the time, huh?" Santana whispered, ignoring how this was straying towards dirty talk. "I bet you want me to take all of you." Santana's hips started grinding against the back of her hand as it thrust into Quinn.

Quinn felt heat pool in the pit of her stomach and she knew it wouldn't be much longer. She clawed at Santana's back, trying to bring herself closer, and not caring when Santana hissed in pain. "Yes," Quinn moaned. "Yes, yes, yes. Take me. Take all of me." Quinn said, not caring that she was caving in this battle of wills. Quinn paused before saying what she knew would drive Santana wild. "Fuck me."

Santana groaned, pulling her fingers out. She looked at Quinn, her eyes glazed and dark with want. "I fucking love you." She leaned back in and thrusted roughly into Quinn. "Let's have a baby."

Quinn cried out as Santana continued to push into her at a rapid pace. She looked at Santana recklessly, honestly certain that she'd say yes to anything Santana asked her right now. She closed her eyes, letting the feeling of euphoria spread throughout her body. "Okay."

"Yeah?" Santana asked.

Quinn grunted as Santana's fingers hit her golden spot again. "Yeah."

Santana covered Quinn's mouth and possessed it with her own. Quinn started grabbing every part of Santana that she could to bring her closer, and it was enough of a hint for Santana to realize she was close. She pushed her thumb into Quinn and rubbed twice before Quinn became undone. Quinn's legs locked behind Santana and held her in place as her back arched off the table edge, her eyes closed and her mouth open. Santana continued to thrust slowly into her, letting Quinn ride out her orgasm slowly as her body shook. Finally, after a few minutes, Santana let Quinn put her legs down and she pulled out of Quinn, pecking her on the lips and forehead as she pulled away.

"I love you." Quinn said dazed, her eyes looking at Santana with admiration.

Santana smirked. "I should hope so. I give you the best orgasms of your life."

Quinn rolled her eyes, her hand swatting Santana's bare shoulder playfully.

"I guess I should return the favor."

* * *

When she goes to sleep that night, the dreams start.

She's dreaming and she knows it, because when she closes her eyes she's sixteen and she hasn't been sixteen in  _years_.

She's sixteen and she's back at McKinley, and it feels weird because even though Quinn knows this is a dream and that she hasn't been that girl in so long...well, the cheerio uniform, the snarl, the feeling of being superior...it all fits.

It's like Quinn hasn't really changed at all. It's like she only aged (because time is the one thing Quinn can't avoid or escape or pretend doesn't exist), but the girl who felt alone and angry and unlucky back in Lima...it feels like that girl is still there, just beneath the surface.

Most of all, it feels  _good_  and Quinn knows that it can't last for long. Most dreams don't. Even the ones you have while awake.

So she walks the halls with pride and anger and everything else that's made her what she is (or maybe it's what she was). She turns to her left expecting to see Santana and falters when the girl isn't there. She presses on and continues to push through the halls. On a whim she turns to her right hoping to at least have Brittany and is shocked when Brittany isn't there too. It can't be a memory, because in this dream Quinn is all alone, and she  _panics_.

She stops in the middle of the hall, her old glare gone and replaced by a look of fear. The kids are laughing, but whether it's at her or just because they're kids, Quinn doesn't know (or care). She's hyperventilating and she can't handle it, she can't be alone, she has no real power by herself.

Quinn turns to her left and spots Mr. Schue's old classroom, so she pushes through the crowd and hurries her way over. She opens the door and closes it, breathing a sigh of relief as she slumps against the door. She doesn't understand it, but those halls overwhelm her now, more than they ever could when she was fifteen and incapable of love.

She's about to close her eyes when she hears a sniffle and Quinn shoots her gaze across the choir room, not sure how she didn't notice that she wasn't alone.

There's a girl sitting in the corner. A girl with blonde hair and oversized clothes. She isn't looking at Quinn and Quinn decides that she needs to immediately change that.

"Hello?" Quinn asks, for no reason in particular except that she has nothing else to say.

The girl raises her head and Quinn nearly falls. It's  _her_ , it's her when she was fifteen and pregnant and Quinn doesn't want to look at it. But she does. She presses forward, her cheerio sneakers silent on the floor.

"Go away." The girl-her-whispers, and Quinn realizes that she wants to but she can't.

"Let me help you." Quinn rasps out because there was nobody there to help her, even when she wished for it.

The girl glares at Quinn and Quinn freezes, because it's the same but it's  _different_. "I don't need  _your_  help." The girl spits out.

Quinn's feet are glued to the floor, her eyes wide and her heart pounding. This girl looks like her, she almost is her, except she isn't. Instead of hazel eyes there are brown almost ones. Instead of cheekbones there are dimples. Instead of hatred there is pain. "Beth?" Quinn croaks out, her voice betraying her.

The girl doesn't answer, she just continues to cry in one of the choir room chairs, and it's an answer if there ever was one. Quinn doesn't move and she doesn't know  _why_.

"Beth?" Quinn tries again, a million questions running through her head. "Why are you here? What's going on? Are you-are you pregnant?"

Beth raises her head then, her eyes spiteful. "What do you care? You're not my mom."

"I...I gave birth to you."

"Yeah," Beth agrees. "Just so that you could leave me here. Just so that I could end up like everyone else. Alone."

"No," Quinn disagrees, her head shaking. "No. I did it so you could have a better life. I wasn't ready to be a mother then."

"Are you ready now?" Beth asks, her eyes hopeful.

Quinn looked at Beth, her swollen belly (god, how did she fall into the same pattern as Quinn?) her old clothes, her eyes that looked just like Puck's eyes, and Quinn decided to be honest. "No."

Beth started crying again. "Why not?"

"I want kids, Beth. I just don't think I want a..."

"What?"

"A teenager." Quinn answered honestly. "I wouldn't be a good mother to you, not even now."

Dream Beth (who honestly is older than she would actually be), starts changing until she's small. Smaller than the last photo Quinn got when Beth was seven. Her belly shrinks and a sundress appears and Quinn just wants to wake up.

"What about now?" Little Beth asks, and Quinn is almost at a loss for words.

"No."

Beth starts crying again. "Why don't you want me?"

It breaks Quinn's heart to hear because it's one of her own fears, it's the fear, and it's coming from the child she carried for nine months. It breaks Quinn's heart and she wants to explain to Beth that it isn't that she doesn't love her, it's just that Beth reminds her of Lima and of a time in her life when all she was good at being was alone. Beth reminds her of mistakes, of Puck, of her horrible teenage years, of the girl she used to be, of her fall from grace, of her faults, and most of all, of her  _mother_.

She can't parent a Beth from Lima because she would be the Quinn that was in Lima, and that Quinn was two bottles shy of being her mother. She doesn't want to be her and she doesn't want Beth to turn into her. But she can't say that, saying that makes it real.

"It's better this way." Quinn tries, for no real reason at all.

Beth's face changes immediately and the tears stop. "I hate you!"

"No, Beth, you don-

"I hate you!" She screams again. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate! Hate! Hate! You!"

Quinn wakes up then, her body covered in sweat and tears springing to her eyes. She bolts up and scrambles out of bed, not wanting Santana to see the girl she used to be, the girl she was afraid of.

Santana wakes up anyway as Quinn rushes to the bathroom, tears falling against her will.

"Quinn? Baby?" Santana calls out when she reaches the door that Quinn's locked behind her. Santana rattles the handle to no avail. "Quinn?" Santana asks again, panic creeping through her tone.

"Go away!" Quinn shouts. "Just...just go away"

Santana doesn't and Quinn doesn't unlock the door and they spend the rest of the night in a standstill.

* * *

The dreams continue but are sporadic at best, so Quinn decides to keep them to herself. She doesn't want Santana to know what she's worried about, what she's always been worried about, especially now that they were trying to have a baby.

It takes two months for Santana to ask her to carry their child and even though Quinn doesn't want to, even though she's afraid of anything that comes from the Fabray genes, she says yes because she can't break Santana's heart.

It takes two more months for Quinn to suggest that they use Santana's egg, because she'd much rather see a child with beautiful brown skin than a child with broken blonde hair. She distances herself from Santana when the dreams start showing up more often, because Quinn doesn't want to admit that anything is wrong.

Santana doesn't question her distance even though the Santana from high school would have, and it makes Quinn sad, how much they've changed.

It takes three months for them to conceive. Santana is ecstatic, she calls everyone to tell them (including her parents) and her co-workers and God, she's already a proud fucking parent and Quinn just feels like the baby carrying case.

It hurts more than Quinn can admit that she doesn't have anyone to call. Not anybody at all.

* * *

_I'm sorry I don't understand_

_Where all of this is coming from_

_I thought that we were fine_

_(Oh we had everything)_

Quinn spends the nine months of her pregnancy devastated and terrified that something is going to go wrong, that she's going to fuck everything up. Santana does her best to soothe her but at this point she's more focused on the baby than she is Quinn and Quinn doesn't like it.

She doesn't like how their relationship is changing, she doesn't like how she feels sixteen again (in the worst ways), she doesn't like how she feels fat when Santana looks pretty, she doesn't like how it feels to have people hit on Santana when she's right there because Santana looks hot and Quinn just looks like a whale.

The only solace that Quinn finds through all of this is when she finds out that they're having a boy. It's relieving, in a way, because it means this kid can't take anything away from her first. From the one she doesn't talk about even though she's always there.

They settle on the name Taylor because it's unisex, just like both of their names, and it's nice to feel like they're starting a tradition.

Overall, Quinn doesn't enjoy her pregnancy. Santana keeps telling her that it's going to be great, them being mothers, but Quinn just keeps thinking that whether it's at sixteen or thirty...getting pregnant still ruined her life.

* * *

After Taylor is born Quinn is hit with a major wave of baby blues.

She can't do anything right. When she holds him he cries, when she feeds him he's not hungry, when she sings to him he won't go to sleep. Santana is the only one that can soothe him and it makes sense, so Quinn finds herself putting more distance into their relationship.

She's not a good mother, she knows, and it hurts for her biggest fear to come true.

Santana stops being intimate, as well. And while Quinn knows that it's because they have a newborn and Santana is still working 40+ hours to support them, Quinn just feels unwanted. She feels unwanted, ugly, and alone.

Most of all she just feels sad.

* * *

_Your head is running wild again_

_My dear we still have everythin'_

_And it's all in your mind_

_(Yeah but this is happenin')_

They continue on like that for awhile, both refusing to acknowledge that their relationship isn't what it used to be. Santana seems to think that it's natural, Quinn just thinks that it's over, and Taylor is just a baby so he obviously doesn't think that much at all.

He's almost three when  _it_  happens.

She still isn't good at being a mother and it's obvious. She's trying but it's clear that Santana is Taylor's favorite and Quinn is just there. She's the bad parent, the one that scolds him, the one that tries to curb his terrible twos that are fastly approaching/fluxuating.

She loves him, she truly does. He looks so much like Santana that Quinn can't not love him. He's mischievous and he has a grin that Quinn knows girls will fall in love with.

He loves her, too, she knows. But he's a toddler and he's easily swayed by things that Santana is better at. She's more fun, more affectionate, more soothing, and Quinn is only good at the literal stuff. The day to day necessities.

Anyway, Taylor is sitting down at his table watching the wiggles when he yells, "momma, cookie!"

Quinn rolls her eyes because she just knew that Santana was spoiling him, even though she constantly denied it. Quinn turned her attention away from the manuscript in front of her and smiles at Taylor. "Not now, Sweetie. After dinner, okay?"

Taylor starts to wail and Quinn can feel a headache starting to creep in. "Taylor, stop it." Quinn scolds.

Taylor rolls onto the floor, his wail turning into a full fledged tantrum as Quinn rubs her temple. She gets up from the table, her work abandoned and heads over to Taylor. She kneels on the ground and tries to pick him up, but he's thrashing all about and making it incredibly hard.

Quinn pulls him up anyway, frustration seeping through. "Taylor, stop it. You're a big boy and big boys don't throw fits, remember?"

Taylor jerked his body all around, trying to get out of her grasp. "I want mommy."

"Mommy isn't here, baby, please stop."

"Cookie!" Taylor shouted, his tears still flowing.

Quinn frowned, aggravated. "I said  _no_."

Taylor stopped jerking and looked at Quinn, his face serious. He frowned in the meanest way he knew how and said. "I want mommy, I hate momma." He pulled away from Quinn and ran to his room, his tiny little feet sounding like nails in a coffin.

He hated  _her_.

 _He_  hated her.

He  _hated_  her.

Quinn stayed in the same spot, not moving and not answering Taylor's cries. She was in the same position when Santana got home, tired and happy. Santana walked into the living room and noticed Quinn, but her attention was pulled in the direction of Taylor's sounds.

"Taylor's crying, Quinn, don't you hear it?" Santana asked, glaring at Quinn before walking to Taylor's room.

Quinn couldn't hear what she was saying but she knew it was soothing because Taylor's wails stopped quickly. It was only a few minutes later when Santana emerged from the room, a soft smile on her face. "When they say terrible two's, they must mean terrible three's and four's as well, huh baby?"

Quinn stayed silent, a million thoughts running through her head. He hated her, she was a terrible mother, Santana picked him first, Quinn wasn't good at this, she would never be good at this. It was all nothing like she ever thought it'd be.

Santana kneeled down in front of Quinn. "Baby? What's wrong?"

Quinn looked at Santana, she saw the age starting to creep through her features and she heard the tone of her voice. All caring and very little bite. This wasn't the Santana she had fallen for, this wasn't the life she had chosen, this wasn't the way things were supposed to go. So she did the only thing she had ever been good at.

She ran.

Quinn bolted up and marched over towards their room, ignoring the look of confusion that Santana sent her way. Santana quickly followed, knowing a Quinn Fabray meltdown when she saw it.

Quinn grabbed her suitcase out of her closet and started grabbing clothes from her drawers, ignoring how this was the second time in over ten years that she's left Santana because she was incapable of adjusting or getting over things.

Santana came into the room, her face bewildered. "Quinn, what the hell? What are you doin?"

Quinn paused. "I have to go."

Santana grabbed her hand, stilling Quinn's movements. "What? Why? Where?"

"To Rachel's." Quinn answered because it was the only place she had.

Santana tightened her grip, her possessive streak showing through. "No."

"Oh, get over it." Quinn spat out. "You know she's engaged to her co-star. She's not even remotely close to being in love with me."

"That's not the point." Santana argued. "She's seen you  _naked_."

"Yeah," Quinn agreed. "When I was twenty-three and hot, not when I was..."

"Was what, Quinn?"

Quinn gestured towards herself. "This. Old. Different. The same. Whatever you want to hear."

Santana narrowed her eyes, still confused. "What the fuck, Q? Just tell me what happened, what I did wrong, and we can work through it."

Quinn yanked her arm away in anger. 'What the fuck happened to you, Santana?"

"What are you talking about?"

"What happened to  _you_? To  _us_? Where's the Santana Lopez that I fell in love with?" Quinn yelled, ignoring how Taylor started to wail again. "Where's the bitch who used to fuck me against the kitchen table? The one who would go toe-to-toe with me in every argument? The one that never caved? The one that nearly beat up every person who ever bothered to look at me? God, Santana, we don't even have sex anymore."

Santana looked bewildered. "I've tried! But you always make some half-assed excuse about Taylor and how you're tired! You've been distant, Quinn, and I thought you just needed some space and then you'd come back, but you never did."

Quinn shook her head in disappointment. "What happened to the Santana Lopez that used to take what she wanted?"

Santana's eyes lit up and Quinn knew that she had hit a sore spot. Santana bared her teeth and Quinn felt affection swell up in her heart. It was good to see a glimpse of the old Santana, the one who used to make her feel sane. "That girl grew up, Quinn. That's what happens when you're in love. You grow up and you fucking change because forever is better than the person you used to be."

"Then what about me?"

"What?"

Quinn looked away, not liking how her eyes stung. "How come I haven't fucking changed? I'm still the same girl I was at sixteen."

"No," Santana said softly. "You're not."

"Yes," Quinn disagreed. "I  _am_. I'm still a terrible mother, a terrible significant other, I'm still selfish. But it's worse, because now I'm jealous of a fucking child. A child, by the way, that just told me he hated me. So congratulations, Santana, you hit the freaking jackpot. You picked the girl who can't communicate, who can't love, who's broken, who's distant. You picked the girl who's bad at being a parent, who can't stand the wiggles, who wishes she could go back to a time where it was just you and her. You picked the girl who's exactly like her mother. So congratulations."

Santana looked at Quinn with a pained expression. "Oh, Quinn."

Quinn put her hand up. Halting Santana's words and her feelings and this moment, because it was too overwhelming to take. "Fuck this, I have to go."

So Quinn ran. She ran away from Santana and her deficits and everything else that made her feel inadequate.

* * *

_You've been havin' real bad dreams oh oh_

_You used to lie so close to me oh oh_

_There's nothing more than empty sheets_

_Between our love, our love_

_Oh our love, our love_

She showed up at Rachel's door hours later, in tears and a hot fucking mess.

Rachel lived on her own, she no longer shared an apartment with Kurt and Blaine and overall...her life seemed empty. It was a sign of growing up that Quinn wasn't ready to take. She wasn't ready to take any of it.

Rachel opened the door in her robe, her eyes worried. "Quinn? Quinn, it's like eight at night. What are you doing here?"

Quinn didn't say anything, she just started crying and Rachel's face softened in response.

"Oh sweetie," Rachel said, stepping to the side so that Quinn could come in. "I'll call Kurt."

* * *

Kurt showed up less than an hour later, movies and alcohol in hand. He had spit-up on his shirt and it reminded Quinn that Kurt had a newborn at home.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt."

He waved her off. "Please, I haven't had a drink in weeks. Blaine understands that you're in crisis mode."

Rachel nodded. "Plus, if Santana comes barrelling through, I'd really like more witnesses around so that she doesn't get the chance to hit me."

Kurt laughed before glancing at Quinn. "Sweetie? What's wrong?"

Quinn shrugged, her lips trembling. She reached for Kurt's alcohol and uncapped it before taking three long gulps of vodka. Her lips burned and her eyes teared up and she couldn't help but think that she wasn't getting too old for this. "I'm getting old." Quinn said, terrified.

Kurt shot a glance at Rachel who just shrugged in return. "Sweetie, we all are. That's a part of growing up."

Quinn put the bottle to her lips again and chugged, ignoring how it burned and only acknowledging how she started to feel woozy. "Yeah, but you're all getting better.  _Different_."

"Quinn," Rachel reached for the bottle and pulled it out of her hands. "So are you."

"No." Quinn objected, pulling the bottle out of Rachel's grasp. "I'm worse. I'm my mother."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Kurt said, his hands waving extravagantly. "You are nothing like your mother."

"Yeah," Rachel agreed. "For starters, you married somebody that you love and somebody that loves you just as much."

"Yeah, for now." Quinn said, taking another chug of the vodka.

"Okay, you know what?" Kurt said, his hands crossing across his chest. "Enough of this pity party, Quinn. Santana loves you, she's changed for you, she married you, she had a son with you. If she wanted to leave you she would have done it already."

"She's changed. She's not the girl I fell in love with." Quinn noted, offhandedly.

Rachel shrugged. "No, she isn't. She's  _better_. She might not have quite as much bite, but her bark is still there. What's more, she loves you. She fucking loves you. I mean, she punched me in the face!"

Kurt nodded in response. "I was there for that and a jealous Santana is very pretty."

"Hey!" Rachel objected.

Kurt put his hands up in defense. "I'm just saying."

Rachel rolled her eyes, her face looking exactly like it did years ago. "Quinn, what is this really about? You know Santana loves you, she's proven it. And I know you love her. So what is this really about?"

Quinn felt tears sting her eyes and she looked away. "I don't want to be my mother."

"You're not."

Quinn shook her head in disagreement. "I am. I keep hurting her because I'm terrified that one day she'll hurt me. I can't give her everything because I'm terrified she'll leave. I can't love my son because...he hates me."

Kurt rubbed his lips together. "He doesn't hate you, Quinn, he's three. Three year olds always say things they don't really mean. It comes with the territory."

Rachel looked at Quinn sadly. "Quinn, these are things you should be discussing with Santana."

Quinn shrugged, knowing that they were right but refusing to do anything about it. "What if I never change? What if Santana keeps turning into somebody I don't recognize and I never change? Would she still love me? Will I still love her?"

"I don't think it's my job to answer that," Rachel answered. "But, I will say that the way Santana looks at you, the way she looked at you when you were eighteen...I don't think that type of love ever changes, Quinn."

"As long as you fight for it." Kurt adds. "I think it'll always be there for you."

"Can't we just get drunk and watch My Best Friends Wedding?" Quinn asked, changing the subject.

Kurt beamed, his hand reaching for the copy. "I thought you'd never ask!"

* * *

_Just give me a reason_

_Just a little bit's enough_

_Just a second we're not broken just bent_

_And we can learn to love again_

_I never stopped_

When Quinn awakens the next morning, her head is pounding and there's a pressure on her legs. She groans as her eyes blink open and light filters through to her pupils. Kurt and Rachel are right, she thinks, she is changing, because she's certainly getting too old for this.

She tries to sit up only to feel the pressure on her legs grow heavier. She leans up and looks down at her legs, only to stare in shock.

"Santana?" Quinn asks, not bothering to look at the clock because she knows that it's early.

Santana grimaces. "That's right, bitch."

"Excuse me?"

Santana shrugged. "You wanted old Santana, I gots old Santana."

Quinn frowned. "Taylor?"

"Is irrelevant right now. He's with Brittany somewhere, doing whatever kids do."

Quinn pushed until Santana let her legs free. "Does she know he's allergic to nuts?"

Santana shrugged in response. Her gaze focused on her nails as Quinn moved into a sitting position. Quinn frowned and licked her lips. It was too early for this. Sure, Brittany was great with kids and responsible (on occasion) but she also had the tendency to do things outrageous. Like the time she lost Taylor at the zoo a few months back. She said it had only been for thirteen minutes. Right. Like thirteen minutes wasn't a long time. "Does she have our number in case of an emergency?"

"Less talking, more macking, Q." Santana responded, pushing Quinn's shoulders so that she could lie back down on the couch.

Quinn protested, keeping her body upright. "God, Santana, stop acting like a teenager."

Santana frowned. "Why? That's what you wanted, isn't it, goldielocks? Why do you get to do it every time you feel strained but I don't gets to?"

"Okay," Quinn started. "I get your point."

Santana stood up and moved until she was hovering over Quinn. "No, you don't, Quinn. I fucking love you, alright? More than I loved Brittany, more than I've ever loved anything and you're just a fucking seedy piece of shady shit sometimes."

"Santana."

Santana held her hand up. "No. You listen here, Q. I don't have time for you to run off to Rachel every time you have an issue, okay? You are  _my_  wife, my partner, and  _mine_  to keep. If you have a problem, talk to me about it because even though I have my mexican third eye, I can't read your damn mind."

"Santana." Quinn repeated, not really ready to hear the rest of this.

"I know you're scared, Quinn, I am too. Because there's more to lose now, right? But let me tell you something." Santana poked Quinn in the chest "I am not your father, you are not your mother, and this is not Lima. I love you and Taylor too damn much to let your old fears get the best of you. I'm sorry we haven't been intimate, but we have a toddler, okay? It's hard sometimes, but I'll do better. But you have to do better, too."

Quinn bit her lip. "How?"

Santana pulled out an envelope. "I heard you talking in your sleep a few months ago and you mentioned her name. I know...I know you haven't asked about her because you're scared, Quinn, but you did good by her, okay? So I asked Puck to send me photos and updates so that you would know that. Some part of you has been broken and I get that, trust me. We're two fucked up peas in a pod, remember?"

Quinn smiled as her finger slipped past the seal and pulled out photos. "I remember."

"I won't give up on you, Q."

Quinn felt tears spring to her eyes, hearing the words that no one has ever said to her before, but the words she so desperately wanted to her. "Why not?"

Santana sat back down beside her and linked their hands together. "That's what you do when you love somebody, and I'm so in love with you sometimes that it hurts. I am so in love with you that I often want to punch Rachel again just because she got to touch what should have always been mine."

Quinn laughed, her hands moving through the photos. "I'm glad you've changed."

"Yeah?"

Quinn nodded. "Yeah. I don't think the old Santana would have put up with me for that long."

"I dunno," Santana shrugged. "The sex is pretty great."

"You have had the tendency to make decisions based off of your libido."

"What can I say, it's never steered me wrong before." Santana grinned cheekily, and it was so much like the old her that Quinn felt herself sway.

Quinn smiled. Things weren't better, not exactly, but Santana making the effort and Quinn returning it. Well, it was a sign and a promise for tomorrow. They would work through this, just like they worked through everything else: together.

Her fingers floated through the photos. There was at least twenty. Photo's of Beth on a bike, her first day of high school, Beth as a head cheerio-oh my God, she was a cheerio- Beth with her teammates, Beth with Mr. Schue (oh god, Mr. Schue). Quinn felt her heart swell at the sight of her daughter being better than she ever was.

"I love you." Quinn said, because she had never meant it more than she did in that moment.

Santana smiled softly and started talking, because that's all she wanted to do with Quinn right now. "That one is of Beth after she was promoted to head cheerio. She's the second youngest Captain to ever have the title. Of course, we all know who the first is. Puck says she's better than us though, she's not cruel, she's kind, and I think it's because the real Fabray in her is shining through..."

* * *

It's over a year later when Quinn and Santana get an invite to go back to Lima for McKinley High's graduation. Santana knows what it means to Quinn, they all do, so Santana, Brittany, Kurt, Blaine, Rachel, Taylor, (Blaine and Kurt's daughter Audrey), and Quinn all pile into a plane and fly down for the graduation.

They run into Finn in Lima and he seems happy. He's a small fish in a small town and Quinn just wishes him the best, knowing that anything else would be wrong. They spot Puck and Jake alone with Puck's daughter Anna, and they wave, so that he can come over. He's doing well for himself. Puck and Jake started up a pool cleaning business together and it really took off a few years ago.

They settle down in the auditorium and Quinn let's her heart beat frantically. She hasn't seen Beth, not since she was a baby, and she's scared of the things the girl will say, the things she will do.

Shelby had invited her and Santana had made sure that she said yes. Taylor is sitting in Quinn's lap, quiet and finally calm. After Quinn's freakout a year ago, she had started making an effort to be a better mother and a better wife. Taylor, like all children, loved her regardless of who she was and what she wasn't. He's over four now and Quinn finds herself thinking about doing it again, because she'd be more ready this time.

They sit quietly and patiently until Mr. Figgin's (so, wow, he was still alive) voice floats over the intercom saying Beth's name.

"Beth Lucy Corcoran: Graduating with honors. Beth has cited the past four years as great and that she hopes the next four at New York University will be just as great. The captain of the cheerios, glee club, and the comic book club has stated that her biggest joy in life comes from being happy and she's glad that she gets the chance to do that in other states."

After Beth's name is said, all of the old glee club kids that are president come to life. They yell and cheer and roar until their voices are almost gone. Quinn cries because she knows it now, she knows she didn't make a mistake. Beth needed somebody who wasn't her at sixteen and Beth got that. She got the opportunity and the love that Quinn never had.

Quinn turned to Santana, who was crying too and laughed. "You big softy."

"Shut it, Fabray, I know where you sleep." Santana replied as her hands wiped her eyes.

Taylor looked up and Quinn and Santana. "Gross. Tears are for girls."

Santana raises her eyebrows and Quinn pats Taylor's head affectionately. He already sounds like a disturbing mix of them two and Quinn is oddly proud. She laces her hand with Santana and squeezes, her eyes on Santana's. "Let's have another one." Quinn knows that Santana's been waiting to ask that question but has waited out of concern, and Quinn wants to gie her this. She really does. "Let's have another one with blonde hair green eyes."

Santana doesn't comment on Quinn's statement, she doesn't need to because she can hear what Quinn is really saying. "Yeah?"

Quinn nodded, her teeth biting her lip in nervousness. "Yeah. Just don't..."

"What?"

"Don't ever leave me."

Santana smiled and bumped Quinn's shoulder playfully. "Never. You're stuck with me, Fabray, just like old times. Except, instead of being at the bottom of the pyramid, I'll just be the bott-"

"Santana!" Quinn scolded, ignoring the looks that Rachel and Kurt shot their way.

Santana laughed. "I love you too, boo, I love you too."

* * *

It's an hour later and they're getting ready to leave when Quinn hears her name. She turns around when it's repeated and is met with an almost exact replica of herself. But better. Beth will always be better.

"Quinn Fabray?" Beth asked, her smile timid and scared.

Quinn gripped Taylor's hand tighter. "Yes, that is me."

Beth rocked back and forth on her feet, her face looking like it was going back and forth between a decision. Finally, the girl leaped forward and embraced Quinn, her arms wrapping around her tightly. "Thank you."

Quinn returned the embrace, trying her best not to feel shaken. "For?"

Beth pulled away, her eyes glistening. She rubbed her nose and laughed awkwardly. "Um, for doing what you did. I just...it was really brave. I understand why you did it and I'm thankful, because I have more opportunities in my life. I have...more people who love me."

Quinn smiled softly as Taylor started to squirm. "I wish I could have done more."

"You did enough." Beth answered quickly. "Just-can I call you sometime?"

Quinn nodded, her hand reaching into her pocket to pull out her phone. Beth took it and dialed her number from Quinn's phone, smiling when it went through. She gave Quinn her phone back and gestured over towards Shelby. "I gotta go, duty with the mother calls, ya know?"

"Yeah, yeah." Quinn waved her hand. "Have fun."

Beth turned around and left, her body disappearing into the crowd. Taylor squeezed her hand and Quinn looked down. "Momma, she looks like you."

Quinn felt her body tremble and tears spring to her eyes. "Yes, she does. Except she's better."

* * *

It's a year later when Santana gives birth to their daughter Lucy. She has blonde hair and she's beautiful and Quinn is only prepared this time. Beth is there, along with Taylor, and Rachel and Kurt and Blaine. Santana looks tired, but pleased, and Quinn can't help but wonder how she was this fucking lucky. How she could start off so sad and end up so blessed.

They're not the same people that they were when they were sixteen or eighteen or even twenty one, but it's the first time in her life where Quinn has believed that that's okay. They love each other and they're making it work and realistically, that's all that matters.

Maybe things weren't always going to be easy but that's okay because the good things in life are not easy. All that mattered was that she wasn't going to give up on Santana and Santana wasn't going to give up on her.

All that mattered was that she loved her family, that she'd go to the end of the world for them, and that automatically made her better than her parents ever could be.

That automatically made her the best Fabray there ever was.

That automatically made her feel lucky because she lucked out with the family she built, with her  _family_.

That automatically made her feel  _happy_  with Santana.

And really, in the end, that's what counts.


End file.
